Captured By French Pirates
by FriendvilleFan
Summary: Marie-Grace Gardner is shocked when she time travels to a magical new world in the future to be adopted into a family of other American Girls like Samantha, Nellie, Felicity, Molly, and many more. Who knew such magic even existed? But Marie-Grace is in for an even bigger surprise when the family takes a vacation to France and she finds herself kidnapped by pirates.


Argh! Welcome aboard me ship matey! Before we cast off let me set the scene . . .

It was a dark and stormy night . . . okay, maybe there wasn't a storm, but it was night and half of the Playroom family was vacationing in France over February break. Their hotel was infested with fire breathing, flesh-eating ants, so the local orphanage allowed them to stay there until the magic pest control specialists had the problem resolved. But something happened that night in the orphanage to Marie-Grace, the newest member of the Playroom family. She is still trying to wrap her head around this whole idea of Time Travel, magic, and a crazy new family like the Playroom. To Marie-Grace, magic is frightening and baffling. She doesn't want to be here in the year 2016, and she doesn't yet feel at home in PFV. Marie-Grace is homesick and yearning for the past when she is suddenly. . .

Captured By

French Pirates

(OOO-La-La)

The Story of my captain and his Prisoner

By: Mime #52

Although I've taken the vow of silence, that doesn't mean I can't write. You see, I'm a French Mime who works for the crew of the French Pirates. Nothing really interesting happened, well except for the usual Pirate business, until my Master took a Prisoner. I followed them around and decided that their story needed to be told.

-Mime #52

A light mist veiled the ship as the last fading rays of sunlight broke over the bow. Waves splashed high against the hull and wind pulsed in her unfurled sails pushing the pirate ship onward with every beat.

The young, yet wistful, French captain stood at the helm as whimsical crew of mimes scurried about on deck. As captain, it was his duty to decide their next course of action. Should they undermine the Agency by stealing the orphans? Or should they annihilate them completely by mounting a major attack?

Suddenly, the captain flashed back to his past when he was a little kid, trapped in a solid white room where a man beat him with the cruelest weapon of the sea, the cat o' nine tail. He could still feel the sting of the lashes slapping against his back and the voices growling in his ear: You are an orphan, no one cares about you and no one ever will. You will never belong to anyone but us. The only way to make a difference in this world is to obey our every order. And with that in mind, the captain knew what action they must take.

"Mimes!" the captain shouted. "Do you see that orphanage on the distant shore? Well, it is our mission to kidnap the orphans inside who are held captive by the Agency."

With no answer from the mimes, the pirate captain continued, "We must save those orphans because if we do not then no one will. They will forever be minions of the most powerful organization of our time. They will forever be captives in windowless rooms. They will forever be without a place to belong. We, mimes, are their only hope."

No doubt they were a strange crew with an even stranger captain, but the mimes were resilient in their duty to their captain and his duty to the orphans. As a salty sea breeze whistled throughout the ship, the misfit band of French pirates went speeding off not to steal treasure but to steal the greater prize of freedom.

Marie-Grace Gardner, the newest member of the Playroom family, shuffled timidly behind her oldest adopted sister Samantha Parkington as Samantha led them through the streets of Paris (in PFV, Paris is on the coast) In the distance, the setting sun gleamed brilliantly off a dark, foreboding building that soared high above the surrounding town. With every step, the Playroom family drew ever nearer to the massive orphanage. There were turrets, arches, and flying buttresses beautifully decorating the outside, but there were also solid bars on the windows, tall gates enclosing the property, and mean looking guards surveying the area.

"This is where we're staying?" Bitty Fatterson complained. "If only I had known, then I would have gone with my parents on their cruise to the Bahamas."

Marie-Grace glanced over at her in surprise; there was nowhere else she'd rather be than visiting an orphanage.

"Really, Samantha?" said Felicity as she tucked a few magical explosives up her colonial skirt. "I thought you had better taste than this. We're in Paris for crying out loud! And it's not like we don't have any money to burn."

Just then, Gwen came running by with eight suitcases, eight carry-ons, and all their snow gear strapped to her back. "W-wait . . . for . . . me," she huffed doubling over in pain. "And can anyone help carry something?"

"No!" came the resounding shouts. Under their noise, no one heard Marie-Grace say meekly, "I'll help."

Gwen looked pleadingly over at Samantha, but Samantha only said, "Sorry Gwen. Luggage is your job. You can't break tradition. Everyone has their own role to play. For example, I'm the leader, Felicity is the armed guard and -"

"And I'm the pack mule," Gwen muttered under her breath as she set down their luggage.

"Now you're getting it," said Samantha.

Finally noticing the tall military building in front of her Gwen said, "We're staying at a prison? Aren't there any hotels in this country?"

Samantha sighed in frustration. "Get over it! You guys should be glad the hotel found some other accommodations for us instead of turning us out into the street."

"Yeah, but now the orphanage will probably make us take care of some snotty kids," said Felicity.

Marie-Grace had at least a million arguments she wanted to throw back at her, but she stayed silent, still very fearful of Felicity.

Samantha said to Felicity, "If you prefer, you can go spend the night with the flesh eating insects. I, for one, am staying here."

"Maybe I will," Felicity grumbled as she went inside. "It would be more exciting that way."

Marie-Grace stayed behind with Samantha as the rest of her family filed in after Felicity. As she looked over at her sister, Samantha seemed to read Marie-Grace's thoughts as she said, "Don't worry about her, Marie-Grace. She's almost harmless. I know you're new here, but this vacation is going to be so much better than last year's disaster. I have it all planned out. Just stick with me and you'll be fine."

What happened last year? Marie-Grace wondered, yet she only nodded mutely, realizing she really didn't want to know.

The Playroom family settled down for the night on air mattresses in a room overrun with orphans. Gwen hauled up all the luggage as everyone else went to bed. But Marie-Grace noticed one orphan girl off by herself, her face downcast and her expression one of sorrow.

Marie-Grace dragged her mattress over to her. "Bonjour mademoiselle my name is Marie-Grace, what's yours?"

The girl didn't answer; she just stared off into space which was rather awkward for Marie-Grace. She was wondering if she should leave or just lie down and feign sleep when the other girl said, "They're coming, I don't know how and I don't know when, but someday we'll be rescued from this dark place and we'll never have to serve the Agency again."

Marie-Grace frowned. "What do you need to be rescued from? I'm sure this orphanage isn't so bad."

The girl's eyes filled with tears. "Don't you see? We are to be forever enslaved to these cruel monsters. They our only chance at escape."

"'They? Who is coming?"

Finally, Gwen dragged in the last of their suitcases. "Whew! Am I glad that's over! Can someone tell me what's with all the mimes hanging around? I swear I saw at least a dozen on the way up here."

The orphan girl screamed with delight. "We're saved!"

"What?" said Marie-Grace. "What do you mean you're saved?"

"Would you guys please be quiet!" Samantha shouted from the other side of the room. "Some people are trying to sleep over here!"

And with that, it was lights out for everyone at the Agency's orphanage.

It was midnight and Marie-Grace woke with a jolt, her ears straining, for she thought she heard heavy footsteps echoing down the long corridor. Maybe she just imagined it, but then the approaching footsteps grew louder. Marie-Grace sat up in bed, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She knew Samantha, who literally slept with one eye open, was in all probability already awake so she whispered, "Psst, Samantha, do you hear that?"

Before Samantha could answer, the door creaked opened and the captain of the French Pirates stormed in to take as many orphans away as he could.

Marie-Grace leapt from her bed and demanded, "Who are you? Why are you stealing orphans?"

Rather than confront the girl, the pirate chose to bolt. Marie-Grace was about to let him get away, but when she thought of the teary orphan girl and her plea for salvation, Marie-Grace darted after him. They raced on through the streets of Paris until they reached the harbor. Her eyes scanned the docks, searching for the pirate savage enough to steal children. Being midnight, there weren't many people around, only a line of orphans waiting to board a pirate ship.

"Why was that boy taking orphans?" Marie-Grace asked the nearest child.

"They are taking us from the bad people who will make us into agents." Marie-Grace wasn't satisfied with that answer so she asked Mime #52. Asking a mime probably wasn't her smartest move, but he acted it out anyway. The mime was promptly ignored as she spied the boy she was looking for.

"Hey, You!" she shouted. The pirate's head shot up at whoever was calling him. His eyes narrowed as he saw the girl from the orphanage. This foolish girl was brave enough to follow him which meant she was either incredibly stupid or a spy. And what do pirates do with spies? Well, my friend, you are about to find out.

"Hey, You!" she called again loudly. "Who is taking orphans for –?"

The pirate silenced her by gripping her arm and holding his sword to her throat. Marie-Grace's eyes widened in fear as he dragged her to his ship.

Then Marie-Grace found her voice, and she screamed. "Let go of me!" But there was no one to hear her cries for help.

The pirate winced at the racket she was making. He put a hand over her mouth because the last thing he needed was the police on his trail.

Marie-Grace struggled against him, desperately trying to free herself. She fought to get his hand off her mouth, and the fight left her gasping for breath.

"Let me-!"

He cut her off with one word. "No."

Marie-Grace fell silent. The tone of command in his voice said that he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed without question. But there was something there that soothed her. It didn't sound as if he was going to hurt her. Then again, nothing is ever as it seems.

Once they reached the ship, he pulled her down several flights of stairs. He grabbed both of her arms and practically threw her into the cell.

"What -?"

He cut her off again. "You are to be my prisoner." _At least until I figure out what to do with you,_ he thought, as he backed away into the shadows of the ship.

Marie-Grace was frozen in place as she stared unseeing into the shadows where her captor disappeared. How did this happen? One minute she was vacationing with her family and the next she was a pirate's prisoner. It just didn't make sense but then nothing in this strange new world ever did.

"S'il vous plait," she said. "Tell me why I'm your prisoner. At least give me that." There was no answer, just the sound of her own voice echoing back to her. Marie-Grace gave up and sat hunched over her knees on the chilly, old wooden floor of the hold. As her teeth chattered and she shivered from the cold bite of the February breeze, Marie-Grace realized that in her haste she had forgotten her coat. That should be the least of my problems now, she thought. Some brave heroine I am, worried only about my frigid body.

Lurking in the darkness, the pirate finally couldn't take it anymore. The sound of her suffering by his hands tore at the little heart he had. This pathetic creature wasn't an enemy at all. Yet he was a pirate and to set her free would break every pirate oath he was bound to. What kind of buccaneer would he be if he kidnapped a girl only to let her go? No, she must remain his prisoner, but there was one small comfort he could provide for her. The captain took off his coat and slid it between the bars of her cell. Later in the night, he would feel guilty sleeping in his nice warm bed as she slept in on the floor, caged like an animal.

Marie-Grace snatched up the jacket without a moment's hesitation. She gasped as she looked up to see the horrible pirate boy who had kidnapped her in the first place. However, even she couldn't deny how handsome he appeared under the shafts of moonlight casting a shadow over his face. Marie-Grace shuddered to see a scar cut across his features. She could almost feel pain etched there, and she longed to trace her finger along it, as if her mere touch could erase the agony of all his past wounds.

Marie-Grace shook her head to clear her thoughts as she snuggled deeper in the warmth of his jacket. She fell asleep wondering why she was a prisoner but more importantly why her captor was being nice to her.

The sun streamed through the porthole to shine down on Marie-Grace, who slept curled up in the pirate's coat. She woke to the first rays of the morning dawn shining down on her face.

Disoriented, she yawned fully expecting Samantha to start making a terrible racket to get them all out of bed. Slowly, Marie-Grace remembered where she was as the hazy sight of the brig came into focus. Are they looking for me? Marie-Grace pondered, then discarded the thought knowing there was far too many of them to notice her absence and that they were too busy enjoying vacation to care.

A shadow of a boy, near her own age, blocked her line of vision. Boldly she called out, "Why did you keep me here?"

"You know too much about us-,"

"Too much! I don't even know who you are; never mind why you bother to steal orphans!"

Normally, the pirate would slip his hands between the bars to wring his hands around the prisoner's neck but with her sweet, heart-shaped face and innocent doe eyes blinking up at him, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he hissed, "I am captain of the French Pirates and if you wish to make it out of here alive then you'd best remember it."

Marie-Grace fell silent, suddenly terrified of this situation she had found herself in.

"But out of the kindness in my heart," the pirate continued. "I am willing to offer you a deal."

"W—what is it?" she asked with a shaky breath.

Mon dieu! How she was so innocent in and pure in a way he never was, thought the pirate not wanting to be her villain. But he had no choice.

"You can either choose to rot in the brig for the rest of your days or join me as part of my crew."

"But I still don't even know what it is you do!"

He raised an eyebrow at her outburst then realized she probably didn't know. Maybe I should just let her go; he thought, then scowled at his softness. A pirate never let a prisoner go.

"Along with the normal pirating business, we capture orphan children from the Agency. The Agency not only strips away their childhood by making them into agents, but they also turn them into killing machines and sometimes send them to destroy pirates.

"I imagine you'll come on missions with us to help calm the children. You will also be expected to cook, clean, and do the crew's laundry like any other common servant." There. With her knowing that he'd have to keep her.

Marie-Grace considered the matter. She knew she would never see the light of day again if she chose to rot in this cell. Yet she didn't want to be a pirate who hurt people either. But he seemed like a good pirate who saved people, if such a thing were possible, and she could already tell that he wasn't nearly as cutthroat as he wanted her to believe. Besides, being let loose among the crew might give her the chance to escape.

"I'll take it," she said.

They shook hands on it as the pirate captain unlocked her cell door. It opened with a rusty groan, and he said, "Welcome to the crew."

Marie-Grace stepped lightly on deck as she placed a hand to her forehead to shade her eyes from the sun. Everywhere she looked there were mimes. There were mimes on the rigging, in the crow's nest, swabbing the poop deck and even steering the ship.

"What's with all the mimes?" she asked just as the only other crew member on board who wasn't a mime said, "Who's the girl?"

The captain clapped his hands to call everyone to attention. "Crew, I would like you to meet . . . I'm sorry," the captain said to Marie-Grace. "Comment tu t'appelles?"

"My name is Marie-Grace."

"Okay. Crew meet Marie-Grace. Marie-Grace meet the Crew. If you haven't noticed they're all mimes."

"Except me!" said the one vocal guy.

"Yes, except him. He is my best friend and second mate."

The second mate saluted. "I'm second mate and proud to be."

"Marie-Grace is our prisoner," said the captain. "Feel free to treat her as such." Or you could try being polite and give her a warm welcome. The thought came as an unbidden surprise that startled the captain.

Fortunately, he was distracted by the second mate who asked the prisoner, "Why are you wearing a dress ?" It was a dress straight out of the 1850s with a long, wide skirt and old fashioned pattern.

"Oh, I'm from 1853."

"Did you live in France?" the pirate said.

"Oui, and I can speak French." They started talking in rapid fire French and everyone followed what they had to say with ease.

"In case there are any English speakers around," said the second mate. "What did she say?"

For a moment, the captain ignored him. "You can't be part of my crew wearing that dress."

"And why not?" said Marie-Grace in scandalized horror because she hadn't exactly had time to bring her suitcase.

The captain threw a raggedy old dress and apron at her. "Here, try this," he said. She glared at him, and he stared back, refusing to feel remorse.

As she went below to change, the captain told the second mate, "She said she is from a small village in France 1853 and lived with her parents, brothers, and a sister named Cecile. Her grandparents were exiled noblemen from the French Revolution. They were lucky to escape with their lives. Then one day a crazy lady

from the future stole her away so she could join the circus. Marie-Grace escaped and was living in the orphanage until I took her prisoner."

"The circus, really are you sure?" the second mate said as if that were the only thing far-fetched about her story.

"Well, that was what she said," said the pirate. Just then Marie-Grace entered wearing a crinoline hoopskirt under her clothes. "What is this?" the pirate said. "I thought I told you to change!"

"These are my underclothes which are none of your business!"

"You can barely walk never mind work as a sailor! And it is my business if my prisoner falls overboard, now isn't it?"

Marie-Grace hung her head, still very aware of the mimes watching them. Their silence unsettled her. They always had their eyes trained on their on their captain.

The pirate waited impatiently for her to take it off. When she didn't, he took his knife and let it fall to the deck.

Marie-Grace gasped, utterly aghast that he did that. "Have you no manners?! A gentleman never reaches up a lady's skirt!"

The second mate chimed in, "We prefer the term 'gentleman o' fortune.'"

The pirate ignored the second mate as he scoffed, "Gentleman! I am a pirate! I can assure you that I am no gentleman and you are certainly no lady!" He threw a bucket of cleaning supplies at her. She failed to catch it and it clattered to the deck. "Now get to work," he growled. Marie-Grace obeyed her captain without comment. After a few hours, the captain rounded everyone up with a whistle. "It's time for a mission. A plane is bound for Minnesota. Prepare-toi."

Bonjour, It's me again Mime 52. So sorry to interrupt but I must say something important. The scene with the plane is being skipped. It is being skipped mostly because no one remembers what happened and because it's not important. Well, the only important thing you should know about it is that it went horribly wrong. Plane missions are tricky to start with but this one backfired because the second mate spotted the wrong plane.

The pirate and his mimes returned to their ship in defeat. The mimes sighed in disappointment. They always strived to be the ferocious pirate crew the captain wanted, but they were mimes for goodness sake! They were mimes who had dreams of miming. Mimes who were, for today at least, frightened of an irritable captain. And not one of them wanted to suffer under his wrath.

"How dare you!" The captain bellowed at his prisoner. "Are you trying to get us all killed?! You are lucky the second mate messed up when he did!"

"Hey, still here you know," said the idiot second mate.

He was ignored again as Marie-Grace screamed, "And it's my fault you didn't teach or even tell me a thing!" It seemed to the pirate that Marie-Grace didn't respect or esteem her captain as so many others in her place would have. Marie-Grace could feel the mimes trembling behind her, but she held her ground.

The pirate was puzzled by her reaction. Why would a lowly prisoner even try to quarrel with her captain? But behind the anger, he saw fear in her eyes. And as he looked into her eyes, the pirate struggled to maintain his rage and had to remind himself more than once that he was a pirate, a fierce and scary one at that.

"You are right, of course," he said. "You must know how to defend yourself." He took his dagger and held it against her throat. His bloodthirsty smile leered over her and Marie-Grace couldn't help being enthralled by it as he said, "How would you survive?"

She swallowed nervously, the cold point of his weapon digging into her skin. She slowly retreated, her gaze never leaving the dagger.

It was a game of cat and mouse, Marie-Grace warily eyeing her captain while the pirate taunted her with every hiss of his blade. The pirate bounced in playful suspicion as he slashed his dagger at her. Marie-Grace leapt out of the way, her skirt catching in the wind, rather distracting to the captain.

With daggers gleaming in the sun, Marie-Grace and the pirate parried and danced in a heart-stopping rhythm. Eventually their daggers clanged together. His eyes met hers in challenge.

"How will you manage your way out of this one?" he asked with arrogance, knowing she couldn't.

"Like this!" She exclaimed and ducked as he thrust his dagger forward. Marie-Grace sprinted away from him, and he charged at her, running full speed across the deck.

All of a sudden, a massive wave heaved the ship to the port side throwing Marie-Grace, who hadn't quite found her sea legs yet, off balance. The pirate rushed towards her, this time not in a mode of attack but instinctive concern. Marie-Grace struggled to stand, but the ship rolled starboard and the wet, slippery deck moved beneath her feet as she was hurled over the gunwales.

"Marie-Grace!" the pirate screamed. She was hanging over the side from the waist down. Her legs kicked comically in the air, her dress and petticoats waving in the breeze. The mimes laughed silently but there was no humor in it for the pirate.

Marie-Grace's face was icy cold with the salty ocean foam splashing against the side of the ship. She quickly heated up when she realized that everyone on deck, including the captain, could see up her skirt.

The pirate reached an arm around her abdomen and pulled her upright. He felt her falling and struggled to catch her before she collapsed.

"Are you alright?" he murmured low and urgently in her ear. She nodded, limp in his arms, too weak for words.

The pirate could have held her there forever, but he came back to reality when he noticed the mimes staring. The second mate coughed politely, "Ahem."

The prisoner stirred in his arms. "You saved me," she croaked. "Why?"

The pirate chose not to answer the prisoner or his crew. He glanced uneasily at them before whispering to Marie-Grace, "Do you think you can stand?"

Marie-Grace looked up at him, his face a blurry vision of concern, and then at the rest of the crew. She saw a blood thirsty glint in the mimes' eyes and realized they still expected her to get up and continue the duel. Even as the pirate pulled her closer to him, she elbowed him in the gut and the crew cheered quietly.

Before he got over his surprise, Marie-Grace stuck out her leg. Still concerned over her well-being, the pirate didn't see it until it was too late. Marie-Grace murmured an apology as the captain did a face plant onto the hard wooden deck of the ship.

Marie-Grace winced and hurried to his side but predatory instinct overtook him and he kneeled reaching for her feet. Marie-Grace danced out of the way. He couldn't help admiring the swirl of her skirt before she threw herself on him.

He clumsily got to his feet with Marie-Grace clinging to his back. He felt the warmth radiating from her body and shivered with delight. Then he remembered that this was war and she was only a prisoner. He tried to shake her off, but Marie-Grace's grip around him was too strong.

Marie-Grace's heart was pounding so hard, she was certain the pirate could feel it. As he thrashed about, her fingers slid loose and she crumpled into a heap behind him.

The captain made a menacing figure, standing over her with his dagger held high. The mimes silently chanted behind him, "Get her! Get her! Finish her off! Win!"

But the pirate didn't care about them. He gazed at his prisoner softly before reaching to take her hand. Marie-Grace hesitantly took it, and he pulled her to stand.

He backed her against the wall of the quarter deck, and Marie-Grace kicked him in a place that won't be mentioned here. He crashed to the ground in defeat, withering in pain. The Mimes mocked him with their silent laughter.

With a rather smug look on her face Marie-Grace said, "How does it feel to be beaten by a girl?"

The captain didn't reply, but as she celebrated with the crew, he crawled up behind her and grabbed both legs sending her crashing to the deck. He towered over her in victory as she sighed heavily and let her head fall back against the deck.

"A pirate's battle never ends," he said. She closed her eyes in defeat knowing she could never win. For the remainder of the day, training with the pirate continued in a similar manner and with a similar outcome each time.

"All right Crew!" called the captain. "It's time for a boat mission! You know the drill; we have approximately three minutes before she comes into view!"

The mimes took their positions, preparing for the brutal fight ahead. Marie-Grace panicked and looked to the captain for some type of direction. He gave none. "Second mate!" he barked. "Are you sure this time?"

"Aye, aye Cap'n!" he saluted. "At least, I hope so."

But the pirate wasn't listening for he was already gazing at Marie-Grace. Dazed, he shook himself out of it and walked over to her. She looked up at him with a mix of awe and fear written across her features, "What am I supposed to do?"

"You'll figure it out," he said with a sick, cruel pirate smile, "Or else." Marie-Grace gulped, her palms sweaty and her stomach jittering with butterflies as she anxiously followed the pirate. Little did she know, he was fighting the urge to hold her hand and keep her safe.

Salt spray blew off the bowsprit as the ship sliced through the waves, her speed increasing with the wind in her sails. Marie-Grace's heart was in her mouth as she realized they were aimed to ram the oncoming ship. But the captain's goal wasn't for her to founder. With inches to spare, the pirate veered sharply starboard.

"Rope lines and boards ready!" called the second mate.

The captain brought her in close as the mimes connected the two ships with ropes, boards and pulleys. The prisoner stood alone and forgotten as the crew jumped to obey the captain's orders. For Marie-Grace, the rest of the world seemed to fade away as she gazed up to where he was standing at the helm. He's handsome in both sunlight and moonlight; she noted, then scolded herself for even thinking such outrageous thoughts.

"Go! Fight the enemy! And rescue those children!" the captain shouted as all the mimes rushed over to the Agency ship. "But don't forget to defend our own ship!" Mimes came running back. The pirate was about to grab hold of the rope and swing himself over to join in the battle when he remembered Marie-Grace. She seemed lost, a deer in the headlights amongst the crowds of fierce pirate mimes and enemy sailors.

Marie-Grace had her dagger out and at the ready as she tried to recall all that she had learned in training earlier that day. Perspiration trickled down the back of her neck. She could no longer hear the crashing waves or the steel clang of swords for the pounding of her heart. Every which way she turned she was surrounded by the growling faces of the enemy forces. Amidst the bloody battle, Marie-Grace braced herself for the very ugly fate that seemed to be upon her.

At the last possible moment, strong arms lifted her into the air as her pirate captain scooped her up. "Merci," she whispered to the wind.

Suddenly they crash landed on deck. The pirate was on top of Marie-Grace trying very hard not to squish her yet at the same time protect her from the chaos that surrounded them. The pirate leapt to his feet drawing his sword as he began battling the enemy crew. As he fought, he said to his prisoner, "Find and bring the children to our ship."

Marie-Grace nodded and did as her captain commanded.

Deep in the belly of the ship, Marie-Grace found the orphan children. Their pale, dirty features were imprisoned behind bars even though they were anything but a threat. In their ragged apparel, they stared up at Marie-Grace with pleading eyes. The younger ones cried softly, and Marie-Grace could see relief shining in their eyes. The pirate was right, thought Marie-Grace, they are relieved to see a friendly face that isn't a creepy pirate mime or one the Agency's guards. Marie-Grace's heart broke in that moment, when she first laid eyes on deprived children who were parentless, used by the Agency, and exposed to fighting. And as she set them free, Marie-Grace vowed that she would do whatever it took to help them.

"As we go out there," she told the children. "Be very careful. Stay close to me, my captain or any of his mimes. Think of it as a game. Whoever gets to the French pirate ship first, wins."

Marie-Grace led the children through the hold and up to the opening of the hatchway. She cautiously poked her head to see how the battle was commencing. She needn't have worried for the mimes had practically won and were returning to their own ship.

Marie-Grace's captain took charge of leading the children over as she turned to bring up the rear. The captain quickly ushered the children across. The ropes holding the ships together were about to fray and the boards were about to snap. The pirate did a headcount and came to the heart stopping realization that only one was missing, Marie-Grace.

Moments ago, Marie-Grace was stopped by an enraged Agency employee who was more than a little upset by their loss.

"You'll pay for this girl," he snarled angrily as he cornered Marie-Grace and a whimpering orphan against the port side rail. His sword thrust forward aimed directly for her heart. Marie-Grace trusted her instinct and ducked. Then she used the momentum of his strike to push him overboard. She wasn't satisfied until she heard a distinct splash as he hit the water.

On the pirate ship, the captain screamed orders at his crew. If there was any chance to get Marie-Grace and the child off that ship then he would do it, no matter the cost.

Marie-Grace calmed the scared little child as she lifted him onto her back. "I'll get us out of this somehow," she promised. Marie-Grace ran over to where the ships were diverging. The ships split apart with a loud crack and a groan as the wood splintered. The Agency ship shuddered as she moved away from the pirate ship. Marie-Grace was more afraid of being sent adrift in the vast ocean alone than she was of anything else.

On the French pirate ship, the second mate glanced at his friend, the captain, who was gripping the helm with a pale tight expression on his face. A cold dread seized his heart. For the first time in his life, he knew what real terror felt like.

"Why do you care so much?" the second mate said. "Prisoners are killed all the time." The pirate was horrified at the thought of Marie-Grace dying as much as he was horrified to realize that he cared so much.

As she scrambled up the rigging with the orphan child, Marie-Grace said to herself, "Don't look down, don't look down."

But of course she looked down. It was a dizzying sensation to see the powerful waves churning in the ocean below. The wind tugged at her skirt and played with her hair blowing it in all sorts of directions. She gripped the rope tightly to keep from falling. She bit her lip, unsure of what to do next. Marie-Grace thought she heard the pirate calling her name, yet this time she couldn't wait to be rescued. She would have to take matters into her own hands.

Marie-Grace glanced quickly at the rope and then at the dagger in her hands. "Shh," she murmured to the whimpering orphan. "We're going to be just fine. I've got an idea."

The kid looked at Marie-Grace and then down at the pirate who was waving his arms and shrieking hysterically and said, "We're doomed."

Marie-Grace pretended not to hear him. She was overcome with a fierce determination to, for once in her life, take part of some adventure. To be the girl daring enough to do something rather than wait for someone else to do it for her. To be a bit more like Felicity.

She cut off an extra piece of rope from the sail and fastened it securely to her dagger. Marie-Grace lifted the orphan kid onto her back as if for a piggy back ride. She took a firm hold of the rope and aimed carefully.

"What is she doing up there!" exclaimed the pirate. "If only I had done something sooner, we could have reached her by now."

The second mate and the rest of the mimes were doubtful, but they kept such thoughts to themselves.

RIP! Was the only sound on the silent ship of mimes as Marie-Grace's dagger buried itself in the mainsail. She was clinging onto the dagger for dear life with an orphan attached to her back when the sheer force of their combined weight caused the dagger to slice downwards through the rest of the sail.

The pirate first thought was that Marie-Grace was going to fall and paralyze herself. His second thought was that she was ripping his best sail. He decided that he must do something to save her because he was too late to save the sail.

Marie-Grace couldn't hold on much longer. Her arms were shaking under the strain and looking down, it was a long way to fall from the topsail. She knew it was only a matter of time before the dagger ripped through the sail completely.

The pirate felt, rather than saw, Marie-Grace fall. She let out a shrill, earsplitting scream, and with less than a moment's notice, he ran forward with his arms opened wide. Just in the nick of time, strong arms caught Marie-Grace and the orphan kid before she could meet yet another horrible end. Gently, as if she were made of glass, the pirate carefully set her down on deck.

"Wow," remarked the orphan child clinging to Marie-Grace's skirt. He was in awe that they were still alive after the day's excitements.

The captain of the French pirates looked directly at Marie-Grace as he addressed the crew, "I believe a celebration is in order. We need to congratulate ourselves on a job well done."

The silent crowd cheered. The only celebrating they ever did was at their annual Christmas party. That could hardly be described as a life of a party and those hardworking mimes were ready for some fun.

"I can't believe you!" the second mate cried. "You wouldn't even give me a birthday present, never mind a whole party! And since when do you throw parties for your prisoners?! Is it because she's a pretty girl?"

"No!" the pirate snapped. "And I'm not doing it for her. I'm doing it for the crew. Think of it as a late birthday present." The second mate stormed away in an angry huff. The captain, his best friend, seemed a little too enchanted with their prisoner.

The captain didn't notice the shift in his friend's attitude. Maybe it was because he was too distracted by and proud of Marie-Grace to care. La celebration must be perfect for her, he thought. It's the least I can do after kidnapping her and needlessly risking her life. The pirate shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was a stupid idea! He couldn't believe himself; he who doesn't even throw himself a birthday party was celebrating his prisoner's actions in battle. But he was set on this course of action. It was far too late to change his mind now. The only thing he could do was go along with it and hope his second mate would have fun regardless. Now back to important matters, which decorations would Marie-Grace prefer?

After preparing dinner for the crew and getting the children settled in, Marie-Grace stood in front of a mirror and tried her best to make her hideous rags look presentable. She told herself it was the party she wanted to look nice for, not the pirate who was throwing it. The children stared at her with wide eyes. She wasn't fooling anyone.

"I used to be scared of pirates," said one child. "But you're not scary."

"You should be," said Marie-Grace. "Because even though not all pirates need fearing, they can still be tough, mean, and deadly. And besides, I'm not a pirate, just a prisoner."

"You're in love," said one little girl. Was it that obvious?

"No I am not."

"Yes you are."

"No."

"Oui."

"No."

"Oui."

"I saw how you looked at the captain," the kid said.

Marie-Grace's cheeks flamed red.

"And how he looked at you," added another kid.

"I don't know what you think you thought you saw but it wasn't that," said Marie-Grace.

"Deny it all you want," said the first girl. "But I should know because I saw the same looks on my parents faces before they died."

Marie-Grace didn't quite know how to respond to that so she simply stated, "Let's just go to the party."

The girl shrugged. "Sure. But someday you'll see that I was right." Not in a million years, thought Marie-Grace. Nevertheless, she reached for the girl's hand as the other children followed them to the pirate's party.

Lanterns glistened overhead, gently bathed in the light of the moon as waves lapped at the ship's hull. The mimes along with the orphan children were in a la fete type mood or in other words deliriously happy. Neither group has ever partied

as hard before or since. What a great day, sighed both Marie-Grace and the pirate.

"Let's have some music!" said the second mate reaching for his violin. The mimes nodded as they too grabbed their instruments.

"All we need now is a singer," said the pirate looking at Marie-Grace.

"What! I can't sing!" she said even though her best friend Cecile once said she was born to sing. "I don't know this song!"

"You'll learn it," he said dragging her up to the stage. "And besides you're bound to be better than the mimes." He pointed to the mimes who were "singing" into the microphone. The pirate shooed them out of the way as Marie-Grace stepped up to the mic. Singing in front of people made her very nervous, but she had no choice but to comply as the music started up. As the night wore on Marie-Grace gained confidence and even began to enjoy herself. Soon everyone was dancing except the captain. Marie-Grace danced over to his side of the ship and hooked her arm around his waist.

Surprised, he shook her off saying, "I don't dance."

"You do now," she said. "Besides you're bound to be better than the mimes." His gaze followed her arm pointing to the mimes who were doing the sprinkler and other interpretive dances. Marie-Grace pulled the pirate onto the dance floor and together they danced the night away.

Around midnight Marie-Grace tucked the children into bed. They wanted to stay up and party with the mimes, but Marie-Grace insisted they get some sleep. It was good thing too because tomorrow would prove to be a big day for everyone. She had just returned to the main deck and was gazing out at sea when the pirate snuck up behind her.

"Bonsoir mademoiselle," he said. He yearned to put his arm around her, but of course he did not.

"Merci," she said, "Not only for a great night but for saving my life as well."

Her words touched him, but he wouldn't let her know that. "Don't let it happen again."

"Oui, monsieur."

They were quiet for a moment, enjoying the other's company and the beautiful night out at sea. It was Marie-Grace who broke the silence when she suddenly said, "Why?"

"Why what?" said the pirate.

"Why do you save those children and why did you take me prisoner only to save me?"

The pirate wasn't prepared for any of these questions. But there was something about her that made him want to trust her. He said the first thing that came to mind which happened to be the truth. "I save those children because I myself am an orphan. I almost had the same fate. It's rewarding to know there is some way I can do some good in this world even if it does take a back seat to pirating.

"I took you prisoner because I am a ruthless pirate who has a reputation to uphold. Also, I must protect the secret of what I do. Usually those who know too much are silenced by my sword, so if you tell another living soul about this then…" He let the threat hang in the air.

_Am I supposed to feel intimidated by this_, Marie-Grace wondered? If anything she felt closer to him. "Why did you save me?" she said softly.

"What?" said the pirate taken aback because he really didn't think she would press for an answer.

"The third question I asked, what is the answer?" Marie-Grace fervently hoped she wasn't asking too much but then she really did want to know.

"Because you changed me," the pirate said, then inwardly cursed himself because pirates don't have feelings nor did they share them. Marie-Grace didn't understand but then maybe it's a pirate thing she decided.

Out the corner of her eye, she noticed the captain absentmindedly thumbing through a miniature treasure chest. "What's that you're playing with?"

"Oh, this?" said the pirate. "It's just a magical treasure chest where I keep something of value from all the crew members ensuring they'll all stay loyal and return to me. It's an old pirate tradition in PFV. I don't believe in it myself but the second mate insisted."

"Oh, may I see it?"

"I'd rather if you didn't. It's between me and my crew." He didn't mention the fact that she was just his prisoner and for that Marie-Grace was grateful. "It's late," he said and she yawned on cue. "We should get some rest. Come on, I'll take you back to your cell."

Marie-Grace was too tired to protest but not tired enough to fail to notice how he gently led her into the brig instead of viciously throwing her or how he had forgotten to lock the door. She settled down on the floor and waited what felt like forever until she was absolutely certain everyone, except the night watch, was asleep. Marie-Grace quietly opened the door and tiptoed up the stairs. With every squeak in the floorboard and creak of the ship, she would wince and remain completely still before continuing onward.

As she passed the captain's quarters, Marie-Grace paused and put her ear up to the door. The only sounds to be heard were the waves gently rocking the ship and the captain snoring away. Quickly, she crept inside and appeared at his bedside table where the treasure chest sat unguarded. She took off her necklace and carefully placed it inside.

"A bientot, my Pirate captain," she whispered. Then she tiptoed out of the captain's quarters and out of his life where she made her escape into the night.

The pirate tossed and turned in his sleep while dreaming of talking mimes, of Marie-Grace falling to her death, and of his second mate stabbing him in the back.

"Dude," said someone shaking him. "Wake up!"

The pirate shut his eyes tight muttering, "We're sinking!" then he felt a cold splash on his face as his second mate doused him with a bucket of ice water.

"Finally, you're awake!"

"Was that really necessary?" the pirate said wringing out his shirt.

"Oui! The prisoner escaped!"

"WHAT?!" The pirate slammed his dagger into the nearest table. "What did you just say?"

"The prisoner is gone!"

"C'est impossible!"

"Then explain," said the second mate through gritted teeth. "Why her cell is wide open and how it happened on your watch!"

The full depth of what he said took a moment to sink in. When it did, the weight of it came crashing in like a sword wound. "Marie-Grace is gone."

"Oui, that's what I've been trying to tell you! Don't you listen to me anymore? Or do you only have eyes for her?"

But the pirate didn't hear him. "We have to find her and bring her back."

"And hang her from the yardarm," said the second mate, "Unless she'd like to taste the bite of the Cat-o-nine-tail on her back!"

"NO!" the pirate said with force driving another dagger into the table. "We are not to harm a hair on her head. Not a single hair! Do you understand?"

"But she's only a prisoner," whined the second mate, "who deserves to be punished."

"Oh, she'll be punished all right, but I'm the one who is going to do it."

"But you'll go easy on her!"

"Second mate," said the captain in a great and terrible voice. "Who is the captain around here?"

"You are," the second mate said bitterly.

"And need I remind you who actually doles out the punishments around here?"

"Non, Monsieur."

"Tres bien. Now that we are on the same page, go gather a small search party."

"Oui monsieur, but sir I still think she should suffer."

"And she will," said the pirate. "I'll make sure of it."

As soon as the second mate was out of earshot the pirate muttered, "But it will be on my terms." Then he raced from his room and began running through the streets of Paris (which in PFV is on the coast). The captain was determined to find the prisoner before anyone else did because if he failed, Marie-Grace would be as good as dead.

Marie-Grace arrived at the hotel room just as her family was leaving. It seemed the flesh eating ant infestation was taken care of, so they didn't need to stay at the orphanage any more. It also seemed like her family hadn't noticed her absence and Marie-Grace intended to keep it that way. She hid in the shadows of the early morning dawn, a little hurt and a little surprised because surely, she thought, nothing ever slips past Samantha.

As she organized the troops Samantha asked, "Has anyone seen Marie-Grace?"

"No," chorused the rest of the family.

"She's probably off helping at the orphanage," said Felicity. "Isn't that her thing or something?"

"You're probably right," said Samantha just as Gwen said, "She'll turn up eventually."

With her sister already forgotten, Samantha addressed everyone again. "Does everyone have their checklists from yesterday?"

"Yes," said Gwen as she crumpled it up and threw it over her shoulder.

Samantha rolled her eyes. "Just make sure you know where we are meeting for lunch and when your group switches activities."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Gwen.

Their voices faded as the family moved down the street. As soon as they were gone, Marie-Grace breathed a huge sigh of relief. Then she picked up Gwen's discarded checklist and dashed up to the hotel room to change out of the atrocious rags.

He was going to kill her if the crew didn't beat him to it. Half the day gone and still no sign of her. He knew where she was not, the orphanage. As a pirate he was hardly welcome back there any time soon, a fact he had learned the hard way. On the outskirts of the park, the pirate flew around a blind curve. He smashed into a browned haired girl wearing an old fashioned Victorian dress.

"Hey buddy, watch where you're going!" Une Americaine, he could tell by the attitude.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Wait a minute . . . you're a wack-o from Play Road."

The girl sighed. Everyone it seems has heard of the Play Room. She eyed his sword. "And you're a pirate."

There was no denying it, and the pirate was about to push her aside when he realized this girl might also be from history and therefore somehow lead him to Marie-Grace. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Samantha. I'm from 1904."

"Do you happen to know a girl named Marie-Grace?"

"Know her? Ha! I live with her. She's my sister."

"Sister?" the pirate echoed.

"Well," said Samantha. "She's not technically my sister because we're all adopted."

So that's what Marie-Grace meant by the circus, the pirate thought. She was talking about the Playroom. But something still didn't quite add up here. "What possessed your family to adopt her if she is from France 1853?"

"France?" Samantha frowned. "Where did you hear that? Marie-Grace is from New Orleans."

"What?!" the pirate growled. His hand automatically touched the hilt of his sword. "Do you know where I could find her?"

Samantha hesitated. _What does a pirate want with Marie-Grace_, she wondered? Samantha glanced at her watch. The babies were trapped in the basement of the Eiffel Tower where Molly and Emily were about to set off explosives to flush out an evil villain's movement. It was set to go off in T-minus 10…9…Whatever. Marie-Grace could take care of herself. Right now it was the Babies who required her immediate attention.

"She's on the other side of the park," Samantha said. She took off like a rocket and was gone before the pirate could even comprehend a word of what she said.

Marie-Grace was enjoying a lovely stroll in the park as she tried to figure out how she was going to catch up on all the tourist attractions she missed yesterday. Perhaps because it was her first vacation in PFV or maybe it was because the mother who was taken from her too soon was originally from France. Either way Marie-Grace didn't want to miss a moment of it. And thanks to that pirate she had already missed the best parts.

She turned around the bend to see the pirate charging at her. Speak of the devil, she thought as she spun around and ran back the way she came. Because you changed me, Marie-Grace remembered his words from last night and a faint blush rose to her cheeks. She hoped he had changed enough not to send her back to the brig to rot or worse.

Marie-Grace was fast but the pirate was faster. _Doesn't she know the crew will probably make me kill her if I don't recapture her now?_ he thought angrily. He didn't have time for this, not when there's treasure to steal and orphans to save.

In her high button boots, it was easy for Marie-Grace to trip and fall on a tree root. The wind blew her hat away and her dress caught in a brush pile. She tugged at it with all her might but by now she was tangled up in her own clothes. _Drat!_ She thought. _I guess the pirate was right about these hoop skirts._ Suddenly it came free and she rolled backwards down the hill and into the waiting arms of the captain.

The captain tightened his grip around her until Marie-Grace could barely breathe. His hand was clamped over her mouth, which made even the idea of screaming impossible. He then half dragged, half carried her all the way back to his ship. It was the longest walk of his life.

Marie-Grace put up a good fight, but it wasn't enough to free her from the captain's iron grip.

As soon as they arrived, the pirate signaled to his crew to make a fast getaway, then he stumbled down the stairs with Marie-Grace. He threw her into the brig and slammed the door shut.

"Enough!" he cried. "Enough struggling and escaping and questioning my authority! You are a prisoner who is so very lucky she hasn't hit the icy water yet!"

Marie-Grace was quiet. She saw his anger and it terrified her.

"You purposely lied to gain my trust and to learn all my secrets. Now the only question is what were you going to do now that you caught me at my weakest?"

Weak? Marie-Grace had never thought of him as weak and was about to tell him so when he continued.

"Just so you know, today I ran into a girl called Samantha." He saw her eyes flash with recognition. "And she told me the truth even if you didn't."

Marie-Grace cringed. Oh Samantha, why did she have to be such a blabber- mouth? But Marie-Grace knew the truth would have come out eventually. Maybe it was better that she wasn't the one to tell it.

Frustrated, the pirate wanted to rant and rave even more. But then he saw her lower lip begin to quiver. Not so angry anymore. He thought maybe he was being too tough on her. After all, every prisoner's priority should be escape, that and staying alive of course.

Marie-Grace held strong. The last thing she wanted was for this pirate to see her cry. Miserably, she held back her salty tears. The pirate saw the defiance blazing in her eyes and came to his senses. Too hard on her! By the crew's standards, she was getting away with murder! The second mate was right; he was going too easy on her.

"I don't care if you die in this cell," he added in a deadly whisper even though it was the farthest thing from the truth. "Anything to ensure my secret is safe and my reputation is intact. Remember that you will always be my prisoner."

After he had stormed away, Marie-Grace picked up his jacket from the first night and buried her face in it. His scent still lingered, but his warmth was long gone. As his harsh words echoed in the chamber around her, Marie-Grace felt numb. She didn't want to be his prisoner, yet she hated to disappoint him. Maybe should would die in this cell, if he left her here long enough.

High above her in the crow's nest, the captain gazed out at sea. This was his hideaway where he came to escape the pressures of life at sea because sometimes even a captain needs a little privacy. And unlike the walls of his cabin, this place was much less confining with the wind in his face and the promise of adventure on the horizon.

Today, however, the pirate pondered what to do about the situation with his prisoner. He, the foolish pirate that he was, made the rookie mistake of trusting her with all his secrets. And what did she do in return? Lie and try to escape, although he really couldn't blame her. She was a pitiful liar and escape artist, where he was a rather fearsome pirate.

Trying to distract himself from this current predicament, the captain reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the treasure chest. As he fumbled through the crew's personal items, he touched a vaguely familiar heart shaped locket. Frowning, he held it up to the sun wondering where he had seen it before. It obviously didn't belong to the crew for it was much too feminine and delicate. Upon opening it he found a picture of a woman who reminded him of someone. Inscribed on the opposite heart were the words: Ma Cherie Ti-Marie, Je t'aime ma fille precieuse.

Then the pirate understood. This was Marie-Grace's necklace, the one that was always sparkling around her beautiful neck. But what was it doing in his treasure chest?

Without pausing to think, he snapped the locket shut and carefully put it back into his pocket. He ran his fingers through his hair debating his next course of action. He couldn't let Marie-Grace go. They'd both be dead within the hour if he did that. But he couldn't just leave her locked up in the brig forever either. But maybe there was something he could do, even if the second mate wouldn't approve.

Marie-Grace suddenly dropped the jacket as the captain came marching down the stairs. She didn't want him to see how pathetic she was or give him another reason to be angry with her. She stood up against the hull of the ship which was as far away from him as she could possibly get.

"I'm going to do something I know I'll regret and give you a gift you don't deserve," he said. He took the big brass key hanging on the wall and unlocked the door.

As the door swung open, Marie-Grace wanted to come running into his arms and tell him that she was sorry. More than anything she wanted to say that she would never lie to him or try to escape ever again, that this time she would be a good prisoner if only he would forgive her. Marie-Grace wanted to say it, really she did, but there was some stubborn part of her that refused.

The captain of the French pirates desired to hold her in his arms and whisper the truth, the secret truth of his heart that even he didn't quite realize yet. He loved her and was willing to risk everything for her freedom. He yearned for her to know that he longed for her happiness just as she longed for freedom.

They could have done it right then and there. This would have ended our story, but alas they did not and instead their icy glares sent a chill through the ship. Even the mime writing this story shivered when he saw the icicles swirl in the air between them.

Wordlessly, the pirate chained Marie-Grace up. It was enough to keep her from throwing herself overboard, but it wasn't enough to stop her from fulfilling her servant duties.

Waves splashed up on deck in a salty sea breeze as gray clouds rolled in to block the sun. Marie-Grace was up to her elbows in suds while she worked on her hands and knees to clean the poop deck. The chains were more of an annoyance than anything else, and Marie-Grace was fairly surprised that they hadn't started rusting yet. Amazingly enough, she was still trying to draw out this task as long as possible because the next job the captain had in store for her was keelhauling, a punishment not many prisoners survived.

The captain called for attention. "Ecoute! Your very lives may depend on it! Do you see that light house in the distance? The Agency has trapped helpless and innocent children in that tower."

The mimes silently groaned. They knew where this was headed.

"To free them," the captain continued, "we must work together. To ensure we all make it out alive we will have to work with stealth and the element of surprise. But if I at any time call the signal for retreat and you are unfortunate enough to not make it back in time, then you will without a doubt be left behind.

"This mission requires strength, obedience, a surprise attack and a speedy getaway. I believe this is something we can do, but it is up to all of you to make it happen." Then the captain proceeded to ready his crew for battle. He walked among the rows of mimes awaiting orders but stopped when he reached Marie-Grace. She was still hard at work scrubbing the deck but sat back on her heels when she noticed a shadow standing over her.

"Even you," he nearly spat, because even though she wasn't part of the crew he still believed he needed her to complete the mission. Marie-Grace scrambled to her feet as he unlocked the chains. The message in his eyes was very clear. If she tried to run during battle it would be a death sentence.

The ship eased up next to the rocky coast, unnoticed against the backdrop of an inky black sky bleeding into the dark ocean. Mimes took off into long boats and scurried up the beach. They crept up to the base of the tower where they quietly knocked out the guards.

The captain rowed to shore with the prisoner by his side. As they landed on the beach, he signaled the mimes to hide in the greenery until the moment arose when they would attack. But Marie-Grace missed the memo. She stood alone, utterly exposed in the silvery moonlight. She wondered where everyone went when the guard in the highest point of the lighthouse noticed a girl standing in the path.

Not believing his eyes, the guard rubbed them and looked again. This time he saw an arm reach out from the bushes and grab her. He glanced around and saw a mime sneaking toward the tower window where the children were kept. He then took out his binoculars and saw a line of rowboats heading out to sea. Sure enough, they led to a ship. The guard immediately sounded the alarm. Red emergency lights flared out into the night as sirens sounded off the water.

For the French pirate and his crew, the battle turned ugly. As much as the captain wanted to succeed, he knew the risk wasn't worth it. They were pirates and to be caught by a group as powerful as the Agency meant they would all meet a hang man's noose. Finally, he gave the command for retreat. The mimes raced back to the ship, and the pirate could tell at a glance Marie-Grace wasn't there. Rescuing her this time wouldn't be so simple. The pirate knew that in order for everyone to make out alive, it had to be now. He was left with a grim choice to make. It was either leave Marie-Grace for the enemy or sacrifice himself and possibly all the members of his crew.

Marie-Grace had heard the enemy's sirens as they called for backups. But she had also seen the desperate faces of the children trapped behind bars. Les pauvre petites choses! Just like Marie-Grace they too were prisoners. Surely the pirate won't leave them here, she thought as she made up her stubborn mind to ignore the captain's call for retreat.

Marie-Grace was just about to be captured by the Agency when she felt an arm grab her by the waist. She turned to see the determined face of the French pirate pull her along as he ran to catch up with his ship.

To the left of the lighthouse, cliffs met the shore. The crew pulled the ship up alongside the cliffs as their captain and his prisoner ran to meet up with them.

Both the pirate and Marie-Grace knew they had to be on that ship or they were both doomed. To gain even more speed, the captain of the French pirates literally swept Marie-Grace off her feet. As he neared the edge of the cliff, the pirate jumped, leaping for the ship. He flung Marie-Grace forward, and she managed to grab hold of the stern. But the captain wasn't so fortunate.

Marie-Grace and the crew looked over the side to realize a very wet and a very angry pirate was in the water. Although it wasn't very funny at the time, Marie-Grace couldn't stop herself from laughing.

The crew hauled the pirate from the icy waters of the cold February Sea. The mimes placed a blanket around his shivering shoulders, as the pirate searched the crowd for the girl who dared to defy her captain. As pleased as he was to hear her laughter, it came at his own expense and everyone on board knew she had gone too far. This couldn't go unpunished, the escape, the disobedience, and by laughing at him, she had pushed the limit. The pirate captain approached her with thundering steps as the crew watched in nervous anticipation.

Marie-Grace was startled and more than a little ashamed. She took one look into those eyes and knew a captain's word is law. To disobey it means endangering herself and others. And that's precisely what she did.

The pirate opened his mouth to speak but closed it because he thought he saw a tear on her cheek.

Marie-Grace closed her eyes as she took a deep breath in. With all those people staring at her she simply melted under pressure.

She turned and fled down the creaky old stairs of the ship. Once she reached the hold, she fell to her knees and cried all the tears she had been holding back since the moment she had been taken prisoner. She was sobbing not only because she could have killed everyone on this ship but because she wasn't a pirate. She wasn't fierce or brave or even adventurous like the pirate. She didn't like stealing and plundering because she believed it was wrong. Although rescuing the orphans really was a great cause, what cost it did it come at? Her freedom. She just wasn't cut out for this sort of life. It was her brave friend Cecile, the girl she might never see again, who yearned for adventure not shy Marie-Grace.

Marie-Grace sobbed even harder when she was overcome with a wave of homesickness. She still missed New Orleans, her family, her friends, her life, and her home. More than anything she wished she could go back especially when she remembered her last words to Papa and the anger in his eyes as they fought.

She thought of her new family, the crazy Playroom citizens who were known as wackos all across PFV. Even though they weren't perfect they were the closest thing to a family she had. Marie-Grace had even started to believe Samantha when she said the pain of losing her life in 1853 would soon fade with time. Then Marie-Grace was captured by French pirates and no one had bothered to investigate or to be even a little concerned that she was missing. To top it all, they were scheduled to leave France tomorrow for the next part of vacation which happened to be at a snowy resort in Sweden.

And Marie-Grace was stuck here in France, a prisoner aboard a pirate ship. She continued to cry, sobbing so hard that she didn't hear heavy footsteps echo down the corridor.

After Marie-Grace had left, the pirate made the crew scatter, "Back to work you lazy bums! Haven't you got more important things to do than pry into other people's business?"

For a moment, the captain continued to stand there for what felt like an eternity. Then he followed Marie-Grace below because she looked to be truly upset.

Soon he was kneeling down beside her. "Ti-Marie," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

Marie-Grace cried even harder, for that was her late mother's old nickname for her. Noticing her distress and obvious need for comfort, the pirate captain got his wish and held her in his arms. Although it wasn't nearly as sweet as he first envisioned because she was busy making a snot rag out of his puffy white pirate shirt.

"Shh, here now, it's all right," said the pirate who began stroking her hair.

"It's not all right," she whispered.

"Then tell me what's wrong and I'll make it right." And he vowed to himself that he would, regardless of what might happen to him.

Marie-Grace began her tale, spilling everything from her lonely childhood in the Northeast with her father, to finally finding a home in New Orleans during the yellow fever epidemic of 1853, and then jumping to today in France, February 201 6, with her family leaving tomorrow for Sweden. She concluded with, "So now you hate me for lying, escaping, and all the trouble I've caused."

"No, I don't," he said realizing it was true. "If I were you, I would have done the same thing or maybe tried harder to escape. What I really think is that you're incredibly brave telling your story to a pirate."

She blushed and lifted her head to look into his eyes. Those fierce dark pirate eyes were now soft and gentle.

"I'm going to do everything I can to fix this," he said. "Which means tomorrow you are going to Sweden with the rest of your family whether I have to take you there myself."

"Je ne comprends pas," she said as tears of joy welled in her eyes. "You're setting me free?"

The pirate nodded solemnly. "C'est vrai. But enough of that," he said wiping away her tears. "Because before you go I will personally give you a tour of France so you'll get to see everything you missed and more."

With that said, the pirate couldn't resist any longer. He kissed her, savoring the moment. Her first kiss, Marie-Grace realized. She had never had any idea that something which appeared to be so gross could in fact be so merveilleux.

I'll miss him; she thought, an unusual thought for a prisoner. I'll miss her, he realized suddenly. He could keep her imprisoned, but that wouldn't be right, not after the adventure she had put him through. At the exact same moment they both gazed into the other's eyes and thought: But he/she wouldn't miss me. In that moment Marie-Grace did something daring. She kissed him back. She was advertised by the Time Travel Company American Girl as shy, but no more because if she were with her pirate captain, she felt as if she could do anything.

When they had finally come up for air, the pirate said sternly, "We'll tell no one of this moment."

"Agreed," she replied with relief.

"What I'm about to do is illegal to the pirate community. We'll both be publically executed if anyone finds out. So let's keep it a secret and pretend you escaped again."

Marie-Grace was silent knowing their very lives hung in the balance of their ability to keep such a secret. She had just pulled away from his strong welcoming arms as the pirate said, "Could we ourselves forget what happened just now?" But the pirate knew she was a prisoner he could never forget, this innocent girl who dared to defy her captor.

"Absolutely, let's never remember," said Marie-Grace even though she knew that in her heart she could never forget the vacation that had changed her life forever.

"Oh, and Marie-Grace?" said the pirate.

"Yes?"

"Tonight you won't sleep on the floor in the brig. You'll have a real bed in the captain's quarters while I'll be up on deck."

"Merci," she whispered. "Merci beaucoup, my pirate captain."

Arm in arm, they set sail for a future without the other. But they were oblivious to one important sound, footsteps that weren't their own.

61


End file.
